


Rigor Mortis

by archiveofyoumom



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Bucky Barnes Feels, Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Cryogenics, Feels, Hallucinations, How Do I Tag, Paralysis, Winter Soldier Bucky Barnes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-09
Updated: 2016-11-09
Packaged: 2018-08-29 23:55:16
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 378
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8510719
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/archiveofyoumom/pseuds/archiveofyoumom
Summary: The Winter Soldier is put back into cryo.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I love Bucky more than anything, but this is my first fic (is it a fic? what's a fic???) so it will be bad. If you want to let me know just how bad it was, leave me a comment!

Everything was hazy, but he could tell he was in a bright room. Cold was on his skin and deep in his bones. As he waited for his eyes to focus, he took stock of the situation.

No pain recognized  
Paralysis in appendages  
Hearing and vision partially functional  
Movement likely impossible in the immediate future

He could feel his heart beating too rapidly, and he tried to control his breath. Without any context, he was almost positive he'd been in this position many times before. His instincts, or maybe training, told him to stay calm and quiet. Only seconds had gone by since he'd achieved consciousnesses, but his faculties were rapidly deteriorating. The cold was increasing its grip on him, and he could sense his breath thickly clouding around his face. There was a sound defining itself through his murky surrounding, and he recognized it as some breed of machine hum. The tetanus on his arms and legs strengthened, as they began to twitch periodically. The cold was taking over his body, and overloading his senses. His subconscious took note of the sound of voices, but was unable to derive meaning. It was quickly becoming impossible to think about anything but the cold. It was so cold. He wondered briefly if he had died, and this was rigor mortis giving him over to the grave. For some reason, he clung to this thought as a morbid lifeline. He couldn't identify the feeling that alighted on his chest as contemplated death, but something told him it wasn't the appropriate one, and he was too far gone to care. He followed the thread to a graveyard, under a summer sky. There was blond hair kneeling at a headstone. Those bright locks belonged to a boy, who should have been smiling but wasn't. He would have done anything in the world to make that boy smile. The feeling on his chest began to overpower the cold. He was no longer aware of anything but that feeling. Was it hope? There was a word that floated to the surface of his muddled brain and stayed there. It was a name, but it meant the same thing. And it was the last thing he wouldn't remember before the cold completely took over.

 

Steve


End file.
